“I’m sorry. I am unable to agree to those terms. I will pass your information to my attorney?—”
“Kyleigh? Don’t fucking play with me. Zahara is the least of your worries in this situation. Stop trying to fight me like I’m some random. You will never keep me out, never keep me away. Your system ain’t built to stop me. Your money can’t fix what my training can do. I’m not saying that to scare you. I’m telling you that you don’t know what I have become in the last ten years. Please don’t make me show you.”
A shiver slid down my spine. He stepped back then, like he’d said what he came to say.
“I’m coming to meet her tomorrow evening. I’ll text you. You have until then to decide.”
He looked at Aziza one more time, and the longing in his eyes almost shamed me. Then, he glanced at me. “Goodnight, Kyleigh,” he said.
Then he was gone.
I lay there rigid, scared, angry, sad, crying, for a long time.
And then I picked up my phone. Before I could stop myself, I started to type.
Me:
Could I call? I’d like to see you, too.
(The next day)
I meant every word I said to Kyleigh early yesterday morning. I wasn’t playing about Aziza now that I knew about her, and I never would. That didn’t mean some part of me didn’t feel a little bad about how alone and somehow small she’d looked sitting up in that bed, pretty brown eyes swimming in tears she was too stubborn to let fall. I didn’t like that it had come to this, but she’d made her choices.
I was here to wreak the consequences.
I’d needed a day. A day in which I took the time to box up my feelings, put them away to deal with later, like I’d been trained. I didn’t want to feel too much toward Kyleigh right now, because the rage that was simmering would have me snatching my babyout that big ol’ house and setting that bitch on fire… I’d have to go back in and get Kyleigh, but still, that’s how I felt. So, I put it up. Marked it “deal with later” so I could be here for my baby in the present.
I took the long way through town instead of heading straight up the hill, letting the truck roll past all the Christmas stuff Emancipation loved so much. These people had lights wrapped around the streetlamps, fake snow in storefront windows, and Santas in a dozen shades of black and brown, reflecting the town’s heritage. The whole town was leaning into the season.
Driving down main, I could see up to where Kyleigh lived with my baby. My jaw clenched at the clean line marking where the lights stopped just past the foot of the hill. On one side, everything glowed. On the other, it… didn’t. I thought about Aunt Alayna calling Kyleigh, the girl who had once loved all things Noel, the Grindley who stole Christmas. Something had to brighten her attitude.
I glanced at the clock. I had time. I was about to meet my daughter for the first time, and I wasn’t about to show up empty-handed like Katelyn Shipley-Christopher hadn’t taught me anything. I wanted something in my hands that said,I see youto her and to her mother, too, whether Kyleigh liked it or not. Instead of turning toward the hill, I swung into the lot at a local grocery. I threw the truck in park and jumped out. Seconds later, warm air hit me as I walked into the store. McKenzie’s was small, locally owned, and still smelled like lavender cleaner, disinfectant, and whatever Mrs. Abigail Dupree was cooking in the deli in the back on any given day. A couple of old men by the lotto machine glanced up, spoke in grizzled voices, then went right back to arguing about the Saints.
I made a straight line for the floral section by the front windows. It wasn’t an extensive display, but they had enough. Bright, loud bouquets wrapped in crinkly plastic stood outagainst a couple of simple ones with white lilies and pretty greenery.
“Jabali?”
The voice came from my left, familiar enough that I looked up even before my brain placed it.
Taniyah.
She was standing by the display of cupcakes, one hand on her cart, the other holding a pack of Hawaiian rolls. Her long braids were pulled up into a messy bun, and she wore a hoodie and leggings under a jean jacket. She looked almost exactly like she had at eighteen, just fuller. She was fine as hell, I acknowledged in a strictly platonic way. I’d never looked at her “like that.”
“Look who outside,” I teased, grinning as I walked over. “Niyah.”
She didn’t even say anything at first, just stepped up and hugged me hard, squeezing like she meant it. I hugged her back. I was truly glad to see her. Then she pulled back, looked me in the face…
…and punched me dead in the stomach. Not enough to drop me with all that damn conditioning, but enough to make me grunt. Girl always did have them hands on her.
“Damn. What was that for?” I wheezed, hand going to my abs.
“A combination. For teenage you, because I never swung on you back then. And for current you, for showing up and having my girl shook up like this.”
I rubbed the spot, trying not to smile. “You hit like a girl,” I complimented. “So, you been waiting to do that?”
She pursed her lips and gave me a look full of attitude. “I have. Don’t let the hug fool you, Jay. I love you, but I love Kyleigh more. You understand?”
There it was. No small talk. Straight to the point.
